Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 69

BRAYDON’S POV

God, she smells so good.

Like pink clouds. I don’t even know what pink clouds smell like, but whatever she’s wearing? That’s it. That’s the scent. I need to beg her for the name so I can spray it all over my room and trick my brain into thinking she’s actually in my bed.

Because that’s where my mind goes. Straight to her on my bed, not the lecture by this egotistical businessman. Not the advice he’s churning out. Her.

Her on my sheets. Her losing her mind while I have my face between her thighs. Her fingers pulling my hair while I try to memorize the taste of her.

She probably thinks I keep looking at her because I’m zoning out or bored. No, babe. I’m looking at you because I’m fighting demons. And all of them are telling me to ruin you the next time I feel the warmth of your skin. One night with her won’t cut it. I need her every day, every night and every damn chance I get.

A loud applause explodes out of nowhere, snapping me out of my fantasies. Everyone starts getting up, so I stand too, trying to pretend I wasn’t just mentally undressing her for the past ten minutes.

Katy shoots me this glare like she wants to smother me for zoning out again.

Honestly? She can smother me anytime. Preferably with her breasts.

Yes, bury me in those curves. Let me die a happy man.

Jesus Christ.

I’m gone.

I’m actually broken.

She has completely undone me. I need this girl in my life.

I need her next to me every minute. I’d bark for her if she asked. I’d cook for her, bake for her and clean the whole townhouse if that’s the price.

Anything. Just to keep her.

“I’m sure you’re happy it’s over,” She whispers, dragging me back to reality, and I force myself to focus.

“Already?” I fake a dramatic sigh. “Damn… I really wanted to hear more of what Red Breeman was saying.”

“It’s Balman.” She corrects me, shaking her head like she can’t believe she’s stuck with me. You’re lucky you did me a huge favor today.”

”

“Or what, baby?” I tease, standing and following her out of the row. “You’d punish me? Because honestly, I think I’d enjoy that.”

She stops so fast I nearly run into her, then she turns to me with an annoyed, flustered look.

“I’m not your baby,” she says. “And we need to leave. Fast. There’s going to be a lot of traffic.”

Holy shit. I didn’t even remember that.

Without thinking, I grab her purse, stuffed with fliers, brochures, and even the free calendars she insisted on taking, then slide my arm around her waist and guide her toward the exit.

The crowd is enormous: loud, sweaty, everyone pushing from every direction. It takes us almost ten minutes to fight our way through, and I spend every second shielding her from elbows, bags, and people who clearly don’t know how to respect her hair.

“Oh my God,” Katy gasps, panting as we step out into the cool air. “I almost lost my lower body.”

“Not possible,” I say, fixing my shirt. “I’d run after it, no matter where it rolled.”

She gives me the hardest eye-roll, like I’m the most unserious person alive. Maybe I am.

We start walking toward the parking lot. I estimate the walk to the car will take another ten minutes and then we’re out of here. But halfway to our black rented car, a figure steps into my path.

A figure I did not expect. A figure I would rather walk into traffic than deal with.

I stop suddenly and my hand tightens around Katy’s arm before I even realize it.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify